Continued
by AMFADAAMFAG
Summary: Just some scenes that Cassandra Clare wrote (Or didn't write) with my interpretation. Originally a one-shot but I like interpreting Cassie's writing! All rights go to Cassandra Clare! Except for the stuff I wrote! Probably all in Jace's Point of View since he is the character I understand most!
1. Loving her the wrong way

_"I know that I will not leave my sister here in your Court," said Jace, "and since there is nothing to be learned from either her or myself, perhaps you could do us the favor of releasing her?"_

 _"The Queen smiled. It was a beautiful, terrible smile. The Queen was a lovely woman; she had that inhuman loveliness that faeries did, that was more like the loveliness of hard crystal than the beauty of a human. The Queen did not look any particular age: she could have been sixteen or forty-five. Jace supposed there were those who would have found her attractive — people had died for love of the Queen — but she gave him a cold feeling in his chest, as if he'd swallowed ice water too fast. "What if I told you she could be freed by a kiss?"_

 _It was Clary who replied, bewildered: "You want Jace to kiss you?"_

 _As the Queen and Court laughed, the icy feeling in Jace's chest intensified. Clary didn't understand faeries, he thought. He'd tried to explain, but there was no explaining, not really. Whatever the Queen wanted from them, it wasn't a kiss from him; she could have demanded that without all this show and nonsense. What she wanted was to see them pinned and struggling like butterflies. It was something immortality did to you, he'd often thought: dulled your senses, your emotions; the sharp, uncontrollable, pitiable responses of human beings were to faeries like fresh blood to a vampire. Something living. Something they didn't have themselves._  
 _"Despite his charms," the Queen said, flicking a glance toward Jace — her eyes were green, like Clary's, but not like Clary's at all — "that kiss will not free the girl."_

 _"I could kiss Meliorn," suggested Isabelle, shrugging._

 _The Queen shook her head slowly. "Nor that. Nor any one of my Court."_

 _Maybe it wasn't just knowing the way the Fair Folk thought, Jace wondered. Maybe it was knowing how people who enjoyed cruelty for the sake of cruelty thought. Isabelle was thoughtless, and sometimes vain, but she wasn't cruel. She tossed her dark hair back and scowled. "I'm not kissing any of you," she said firmly. "Just so it's official."_  
 _"That hardly seems necessary," said Simon, stepped forward. "If a kiss is all . . ."_

 _Simon took a step toward Clary, who didn't move away. The ice in Jace's chest turned into liquid fire; he clenched his hands at his sides as Simon took Clary gently by the arms and looked down into her face. She rested her hands on Simon's waist, as if she'd done it a million times before. Maybe she had, for all he knew. He knew Simon loved her; he'd known it since he'd seen them together in that stupid coffee shop, the other boy practically choking on getting the words "I love you" out of his mouth while Clary looked around the room, restlessly alive, her green eyes darting. She's not interested in you, mundane boy, he thought with satisfaction. Get lost, And then been surprised he'd thought it. What difference did it make to him what this girl he barely knew thought?_

 _That seemed like a lifetime ago. She wasn't some girl he barely knew anymore: she was Clary. She was the one thing in his life that mattered more than anything else, and watching Simon put his hands on her, wherever he wanted to, made him feel at once sick and faint and murderously angry. The urge to stalk up and rip the two of them apart was so strong he could barely breathe._

 _Clary glanced back at him, her red hair slipping over her shoulder. She looked concerned, which was bad enough. He couldn't stand the thought that she might feel sorry for him. He looked away fast, and caught the eye of the Seelie Queen, glimmering with delight. That was what she was after. Their pain, their agony._

 _"No," said the Queen, to Simon, in a voice like the soft slice of a knife. "That is not what I want either."_

 _Simon stepped away from Clary, reluctantly. Relief pounded through Jace's veins like blood, drowning out what his friends were saying. For a moment all he cared about was that he wasn't going to have to watch Clary kiss Simon. Then Clary seemed to swim into focus: she was very pale, and he couldn't help wondering what she was thinking. Was she disappointed not to be kissed by Simon? Relieved as he was? He thought of Simon kissing her hand earlier than day and shoved the memory away viciously, still staring at her. Look at me. If you love me, you'll look at me._

 _She crossed her arms over her chest, the way she did when she was cold or upset. But she didn't look up. The conversation went on around them: who was going to kiss who, what was going to happen. Hopeless rage rose up in Jace's chest, and as usual, found its escape in a sarcastic comment. "Well, I'm not kissing the mundane," he said. "I'd rather stay down here and rot._

 _"Forever?" said Simon. His eyes were big and dark and serious. "Forever's an awfully long time."_

 _Jace looked back at those eyes. Simon was probably a good person, he thought. He loved Clary and he wanted to take care of her and make her happy. He'd probably make a spectacular boyfriend. Logically, Jace knew, it was exactly what he ought to want for his sister. But he couldn't look at Simon without wanting to kill someone. "I knew it," he said nastily. "You want to kiss me, don't you?"_

 _"Of course not. But if—"_

 _"I guess it's true what they say. There are no straight men in the trenches."_

 _"That's atheists, jackass." Simon was bright red. "There are no atheists in the trenches."_

 _It was the Queen who interrupted them, leaning forward so that her white neck and breasts were displayed above the neckline of her low-cut gown. "While this is all very amusing, the kiss that will free the girl is the kiss that she most desires," she said. "Only that and nothing more."_

 _Simon went from red to white. If the kiss that Clary most desired wasn't Simon's, then . . .the way she was looking at Jace, from Jace to Clary, answered that._

 _Jace's heart started to pound. He met the Queen's eyes with his own. "Why are you doing this?"_

 _"I rather thought I was offering you a boon," she said. "Desire is not always lessened by disgust. Nor can it be bestowed, like a favor, to those most deserving of it. And as my words bind my magic, so you can know the truth. If she doesn't desire your kiss, she won't be free."_

 _Jace felt blood flood into his face. He was vaguely aware of Simon arguing that Jace and Clary were brother and sister, that it wasn't right, but he ignored him. The Seelie Queen was looking at him, and her eyes were like the sea before a deadly storm, and he wanted to say thank you. Thank you._

 _And that was the most dangerous thing of all, he thought, as around him his companions argued about whether Clary and Jace had to do this, or what any of them would be willing to do to escape the Court. To allow the Queen to give you something you wanted — truly, truly wanted — was to put yourself in her power. How had she looked at him and known, he wondered? That this was what he thought about, wanted, woke from dreams of, gasping and sweating? That when he thought, really thought, about the fact that he might never get to kiss Clary again, he wanted to die or hurt or bleed so badly he'd go up to the attic and train alone for hours until he was so exhausted he had no choice but to pass out, exhausted. He'd have bruises in the morning, bruises and cuts and scraped skin and if he could have named all his injuries they would have had the same name: Clary, Clary, Clary._

 _Simon was still talking, saying something, angry again. "You don't have to do this, Clary, it's a trick—"_

 _"Not a trick," said Jace. The calmness in his own voice surprised him. "A test." He looked at Clary. She was biting her lip, her hand wound in a curl of her hair; the gestures so characteristic, so very much a part of her, they shattered his heart. Simon was arguing with Isabelle now as the Seelie Queen lounged back and watched them like a sleek, amused cat._

 _Isabelle sounded exasperated. 'Who cares, anyway? It's just a kiss."_

 _That's right," Jace said._

 _Clary looked up, then finally, and her wide green eyes rested on him. He moved toward her, and as it always did, the rest of the world fell away until it was just them, as if they stood on a spotlighted stage in an empty auditorium. He put his hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. She had stopped biting her lip, and her cheeks were flushed, her eyes a brilliant green. He could feel the tension in his own body, the effort of holding back, of not pulling her against him and taking this once chance, however dangerous and stupid and unwise, and kissing her the way he had thought he would never, in his life, be able to kiss her again._

 _"It's just a kiss," he said, and heard the roughness in his own voice, and wondered if she heard it, Not that it mattered—there was no way to hide it. It was too much. He had never"wanted like this before. There had always been girls. He had asked himself, in the dead of night, staring at the blank walls of his room, what made Clary so different. She was beautiful, but other girls were beautiful. She was smart, but there were other smart girls. She understood him, laughed when he laughed, saw through the defenses he put up to what was underneath. There was no Jace Wayland more real than the one he saw in her eyes when she looked at him._

 _But still, maybe, he could find all that somewhere else. People fell in love, and lost, and moved on. He didn't know why he couldn't. He didn't know why he didn't even want to. All he knew was that whatever he had to owe to Hell or Heaven for this chance, he was going to make it count._

 _He reached down and took her hands, winding his fingers with hers, and whispered in her ear. "You can close your eyes and think of England, if you like," he said._

 _Her eyes fluttered shut, her lashes coppery lines against her pale, fragile skin. "I've never even been to England," she said, and the softness, the anxiety in her voice almost undid him. He had never kissed a girl without knowing she wanted it too, usually more than he did, and this was Clary, and he didn't know what she wanted. He slid his hands up hers, over the sleeves of her damply clinging shirt, to her shoulders. Her eyes were still closed, but she shivered, and leaned into him — barely, but it was permission enough._

 _His mouth came down on hers. And that was it. All the self-control he'd exerted over the past weeks went, like water crashing through a broken dam. Her arms came up around his neck and he pulled her against him, and she was soft and pliant but surprisingly strong like no one else he'd ever held. His hands flattened against her back, pressing her against him, and she was up on the tips of her toes, kissing him as fiercely as he was kissing her. He flicked his tongue along her lips, opening her mouth under his, and she tasted salt and sweet like faerie water. He clung to her more tightly, knotting his hands in her hair, trying to tell her, with the press of his mouth on hers, all the things he could never say out loud: I love you; I love you and I don't care that you're my sister; don't be with him, don't want him, don't go with him. Be with me. Want me. Stay with me. I don't know how to be without you._

 _His hands slid down to her waist, and he was pulling her against him, lost in the sensations that spiraled through his nerves and blood and bones._

As the kiss grew and grew into a mess, his tongue asking for permission. He didn't care, even though every part of his logical part screamed to stop; to pull away; not to do it, his heart told him to continue, to make yourselves one.

Clary, to Jaces relief, let him in. He never thought he could be able to do this again. To kiss her like he loved; which he did. Everything about the way he held her said he loved her.

Her hands moved down his back, her fingernails scraping his muscular, causing him to let loose a moan. He could feel Clary's face heat up from the sound he did. /p

Here he was, moaning because of his sister. He should be in rage at the thought of someone kissing her the way he was kissing her. But if he saw anyone kissing Clary the way he was, he would most definitely be angry, not because it was his baby sister, and he was protecting her, but because he would be thinking it should have been him.

At what Jace did next, he thought Clary would stop it, but she didn't. He moved his lips away from her mouth, moving downwards, to her jawline, down her neck. Clary moaned as he continued, and he smirked. Everything he was doing, was saying three words that meant everything, but at the same time, it should mean something else entirely.

He hoped for nothing more than that this could be any day of his life, but it shouldn't even be happening on this day of his life. It should have stopped seconds, maybe minutes ago, he didn't know how long. He was lost in the beauty of Clary. The uniqueness of Clary, his sister.

His hands moved from her waist to the inside of her shirt, touching her bare skin. He rubbed circles on her hip bones. He kissed her mouth again. It was a clash of teeth and tongue. She moaned into his mouth, which made every cell in Jace's body jump against each other. He never felt better in his life. Being the cause of his sister's pleasureful moan, made him feel better than ever, Jace thought. Beat that, mundane boy, Jace thought smugly.

He was pulled out of his beautiful daze when he heard the sound of gagging, real gagging, come from Simon. Leave it to Rat Boy to ruin everything, Jace thought, anger seeping through him. He stepped back from Clary, rather harshly, he had to admit it. But he was not in the mood to play games anymore.

She was his sister, they shared blood. Blood. DNA. But Jace never needed something like he needed Clary. Not even sexually, just knowing that she would be their for him; love him like a lover would, was all he needed.

 _Clary was staring at him. Her lips were parted, her hands still open. Her eyes were wide. Behind her, Isabelle was gaping at them; Simon looked as if he was about to throw up._

 _She's my sister, Jace thought. My sister. But the words meant nothing. They might as well have been in a foreign language. If there had ever been any hope that he could have come to think of Clary as just his sister, this — what had just happened between them — had exploded it into a thousand pieces like a meteorite blasting into the surface of the earth. He tried to read_ Clary's _face — did she feel the same? She looked as if she wanted nothing more than to turn around and run I know you felt it, he said to her with his eyes, and it was half bitter triumph and half, I know you felt it, too. But there was no answer on her face; she wrapped her arms around herself, the way she always did when she was upset, and hugged herself as if she were cold. She glanced away from him._

 _Jace felt as if his heart was being squeezed by a fist. He whirled on the Queen. "Was that good enough?" he demanded. "Did that entertain you?"_

 _The Queen gave him a look: special and secretive and shared between the two of them. "You warned her about us, That we would hurt her, break her as you might break a twig between your fingers. But you, who thought you could not be touched — you are the one who has been broken. "We are quite entertained," she said. "But not, I think, so much as the both of you."_

 **Now most of it was written cassandra clare, but I added a few things that I felt was right. Scene, characters, plot and basicly evrything is owned by Cassandra Clare.**


	2. My Heart

**Jace's POV of his proposal in 'A Long Conversation'. All rights go to Cassandra Clare, except what I wrote!**

 **Review!**

* * *

Jace was almost lost in the sound of the Piano. The sound of the instrument that he loved. He, unlike today, usually got lost in the way his fingers delicately skimmed the keys, playing it as if it were a part of him, and in some ways, it was.

He glanced at Clary from across the room. She was beautiful in her green dress, that he finally had helped encourage her to put on, that matched her emerald green eyes. She was staring at Simon, brushing her _parabatai_ rune. The way Clary looked at Simon would have, at one point, made him jealous, with an anger that would burn bright behind his usually calm, indifferent expression. But now, he knew that the loving expression that was on her face was not one of want and rekindling desire; not one of unconditional love between lovers, but one of a deep friendship that would never dwindle.

Once the song was over, he got up and strode over to Alec, wanting to run over the details of the night. Alec was the only one who knew, besides Izzy, who had happily agreed to subtly suggest the whole thing to Clary beforehand.

Jace followed Clary's movements as she settled her gaze on Izzy and Simon. A silent wish washed over her, and he knew that she wanted nothing more for her _parabatai_ to be happy. He knew, most of all, he understood.

He walked over to her as her mind reeled in, coming back to reality. "Clary." He was behind her, now. His covered arm brushed her naked one. "Let's go-"

He knew the refusal was going to happen before she had said it. "We can't duck out, it's our party-"

"Just for a second," he said, his voice purposely low. He knew that that particular voice could convince her to do almost anything. He stepped backward, and to his relief, she followed. Jace walked to the strategy room, and they slipped in. He was vaguely aware that Alec had flashed a thumbs up to him when entering.

He locked the door, not wanting anyone to interrupt their soon-to-be private moment.

Jace was very determined that this would work out perfectly, and they would leave the room in a fumbling mess of limbs.

He strode over to her, trying to keep his calm facade on. He took her in his arms and kissed her. When he kissed her it was like she revived him from death once again. As if she was his life line-and in some ways, she was.

He knew she hadn't grown tired of their rendezvous, either. He could feel the love pour off of her, the way after a few seconds of worry and hesitation, she let herself be free and relax into the beauty and warmth of the kiss.

When Jace pulled away, he loved that she teased him with her small joke, "Wow," she said, her finger running up the outside of his collar. "I guess all that romance and flower petals falling from the sky did a number on you, huh?"

"Shh," he couldn't help but grin at his love below him. He was just so happy it put him in a daze. Really, anything he did with Clary put him in a daze. "Let me be in the moment."

"What moment is that," She glanced around the room. He could see how happy and amused she was. It shone throughout her eyes and a tight smile. "The moment of hiding in a closet while our friends' engagement party happens?"

He didn't answer, she was just so God-damn beautiful. He lifted her by her waist and sat her down on the closed lid of the baby grand. When he looked at her, finally at the same level as her, he saw that she was surprised.

He kissed her, hands on her waist, his fingers knotting in the material of her dress, "Jace," she whispered against his lips. He could feel both their hearts pounding. He leaned in, pressing her against the piano. He was breathing quickly, his hands skimming her body, his lips moving against hers, rhythmically.

He knew he had other plans for right now, but she was here, in his passionate embrace, alone. He caressed the strap of her dress. _Now or never_ , Jace thought to himself. "Green to mend our broken hearts," he started, a line of a children's shadowhunter rhyme. He knew Clary would understand. She learned it years ago, while in the hands of her, now late, brother.

"You mended my broken heart," he whispered in her ear, his voice warm and soft. "You picked up the pieces of a broken, angry boy and made him into a happy man, Clary."

"No, " she said her voice shaking. _Did I do something wrong_ , Jace thought worriedly. "You did that. I just-cheered you on from the sidelines."

"I wouldn't be here without you." It was impossible to imagine a life if he hadn't met Clary that fateful night. It'd be a nightmare; one you wouldn't even know of. "Not just you-Alec, Isabelle, even Simon-but you're my heart." It was true. She kept this happy man's heart beating.

"And you're mine, you know that," she said, and Jace absolutely relished in that fact.

"So will you?" he asked, the question coming forward. This was the moment that he was most scared of.

"Will I what?"

"Marry me," he said, "Marry me, Clary." And he saw the hesitation, and he could feel his heartbreak slightly. But then, a panicked-looking Magnus strode in, and Jace knew this conversation was over.

The whole thing truly did make him annoyed, and his patience dwindled. He was no longer in a good mood. He was dying of curiosity and the chance of being rejected by the person he loved most, wasn't a refresher in the slightest.


End file.
